Week 11, Title; Today

Stephen’s first thought when he wakes is ‘I want to die’, an image of a gun between his teeth flashes through his mind. Every day is a fading photocopy of the last; he pictures his entire life rolling out the same, day after day after day. He can’t do this anymore and doesn’t even have the energy to pretend otherwise.

He feels Marcus shuffle beside him and cringes at the words he knows are coming,

“Are you okay?” Marcus asks, with concern, leaning over to see Stephen’s face and then frowning in response.

Stephen cringes again, waiting for the onslaught of questions. Instead Marcus slides off the bed and softly says, “Alright I’m going to make us some blueberry pancakes. I must have been really sloshed last night; I don’t even remember us getting here. I guess I’ll go in search for the kitchen.”

Stephen sighs in relief as Marcus leaves the room and only feels worse for it; his chest feels heavy like lead. He’d have to get a gun from America if he’s going to use one because getting one here seems like too much effort. But then he’d have to kill himself in America and getting his body back would probably be a bitch for his grieving parents.

Marcus walks in quietly, leaves the plate on the bedside table, and says, “So is this a ‘you want to be alone’ thing or a ‘you want me here but lying next to you silently’ thing or a ‘you want me to make noise and distract you from yourself’ thing?”

Stephen takes Marcus’ hand and wordlessly tugs him onto the bed. The feel of Marcus’ arms wrapped around him doesn’t make it better, but it’s pleasant.

*

When Stephen wakes up the next morning he feels more able to handle the day, still not great but it’s been a while since he felt great.

He sighs and rolls out of bed, it would be so much easier if they’d been allowed to keep the flat, “We’re house-sitting.”

“House sitting for whom, when did we get here?”

“Eric, from work. Last night, you were pretty drunk.”

“Your face looks weird.”

“I must be coming down with something.”

“Boo, want me to make you some Lemsip?”

“No, I’m okay.”

*

Not feeling fully alright, Stephen hopes this will be one of those days where the other man didn’t ask too many questions or figure out too many answers. But life is never that easy.

“Wow, global warming is taking a new leap forward, yesterday it was snowing and today it’s boiling,” Marcus says.

“Yeah, odd.” Summer is always the hardest.

Stephen ponders whether the universe hates him when only ten minutes later his partner catches another piece of the puzzle:

“The computer thinks it’s 2023. Ooh, future,” Marcus jokes.

Stephen curses internally, he’d changed the time back to 2013 only a couple days ago but the damn smart-arse computer kept resetting itself. As if to add insult to injury an extremely rare and expensive flying car chooses that moment to zoom past the window. Yes, the universe definitely hates him.

Marcus blinks a few times before spurting, “What is going on? We both look different, we look older, the computer says it’s 2023 and there’s odd shit everywhere.”

“Okay, sit down, it’s a long story. Do you remember driving in the snow?”

“What yesterday? Yeah, of course.”

“It wasn’t yesterday. You were in a car accident.”

“What? What are you talking about? No I wasn’t.”

“You were in a car accident and received a brain injury, the part of your brain which converts short term memories into long term ones while you sleep is damaged and so you’re only able to remember the current day.” Stephen’s tone begins to slip into monotone as he recites the words he’s already said thousands of times.

“Well it’s true.” Stephen holds in a sigh, reminds himself that this is new for Marcus, except it will also be forgotten by Marcus so it’s irrelevant. Nothing matters.

“How long ago was…wait, so it’s 2023? Ten years have passed?”

“Yep.”

“No, this is ridiculous…I can’t.”

“Yes, it’s ridiculous, you were in an accident, you have brain damage, you have no new memories, you’ve been this way for ten years,” Stephen states with a bored tone, fighting not to grit his teeth.

“Well don’t act like it’s a big deal or anything, do you even care?” Marcus snaps.

Stephen laughs loud and harsh, feeling himself fray apart, he shouts, “You have no idea what this is like, you get to forget, and I have to remember every fucking day, repeat the same conversation every single day, calm you and coddle you through it over and over and over again!”

“Well I’m sorry my brain injury is such a burden to you! Why are you even still here? Is it obligation, because I’ll give you permission to leave right now, go, you’re free!”

Stephen deflates, talks quietly at the floor, “I love you. I’m still here because I love you and I need you and despite everything, I can’t imagine my life without you.”

*

Marcus enters carrying two mugs of coffee and, placing one in front of Stephen, says,“So I guess we’re a bit of a mess, huh?”

“It’s okay, everything will be fine again tomorrow.”

“Oh sure, that’s not messed up at all.”

“You’re dealing with this better than usual.”

“Well, I figure you’re not dealing with this all that well at the moment and one of us has got to pretend to be okay.”

“I’d say you don’t have to pretend but you’re probably right.”

“So I’m doomed to never really live a life and you’re doomed to live the same day over again. Is there any good news?”

“Not really. Oh, we can legally get married now though.”

*

Marcus wakes up in a strange room, with wood panelled walls and thick cream blinds over the windows. He gets out of bed and warily trundles around before hearing his lover’s voice and realises Stephen is finishing up a phone call, saying goodbye and hanging up.

“Where are we? And was that anyone interesting?” Marcus asks.

Stephen sighs in resignation and Marcus is surprised by it, it seems so unlike Stephen.

“I need to talk to you about something.”

“Is everything okay, how did we get here?” Marcus asks, his concern growing.

“We should sit down.”

Marcus pulls out a chair, “Alright, so what’s going on?”

“Do you remember driving in the snow?”

“What yesterday? Yeah, so what?”

“You were in a car accident. It’s why you don’t remember being here.”

“Wait, what, an accident? What, I forgot the whole accident and a few days?” Marcus tries to remember, frustration filling him when not a single scrap from the crash comes to mind.

“What, I don’t understand…” Marcus begins jabbering, he can hear his own voice making sounds, doesn’t know what he’s saying. This is too much, it’s too ridiculous, a bad soap opera, this can’t be right. He can’t breathe.

“I know, it’s way too much to take in and way too much to handle and it’s unfair to ask you to handle it, but I need you to stay calm for just a minute because that was your doctor on the phone.”

His partner is looking into his eyes and asking him to be calm and he tries to pull his scrambled self together, jittering slightly he somehow manages a clear sentence,“Okay, hold on, I can’t keep my memories and you’re speaking to my doctor?”

“There’s an experimental treatment, we’re hoping it will allow you to form memories again.”

He startles, that sounds hopeful, it’s all happening so quickly, he replies, “Sensing a but.”

“They’re going to take a piece of someone else’s brain and replace the damaged part of yours.”

“A brain transplant! You want me to have a brain transplant? Are you crazy!” Marcus blinks repeatedly, it’s so surreal, and yesterday everything was normal. Well, no, yesterday wasn’t yesterday at all.

“It’s not a whole brain, just a tiny piece; it’s not two thousand and thirteen anymore.”

“You’re transplanting part of a brain. It’s a brain transplant.”

“I know it’s hard to understand, but if you want your life back it’s your only option. We’ve discussed this before.”

“Why are you being so pushy?” Marcus asks.

“They have a candidate match for transplanting, we have to do it today.”

“Woah, what, sure just spring a last minute brain transplant on me, that makes sense!”

“It’s harsh, but you’re never going to have more than a day to adjust to it anyway,” he watches as Stephen walks to a drawer to get something and hand it over, “Here; you wrote a letter for yourself.”

Marcus reads the letter slowly, letting the words settle into his mind; it’s not the long thing he was expecting, only one line; ‘Do it for Stephen and do it for yourself.’

*

“Are you sure?” Stephen asks, as Marcus lies in a hospital bed waiting for surgery.

“Oh, now you’re all doubtful. Yeah, I’m sure.”

*

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

“Do you know where you are?”

The weight of a decade hangs in the balance between them, hope and love and doubt waiting for a pendulum to fall, waiting for an answer.